


Our Arrangement

by loficlouds



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Arthur tops, Colonial America, M/M, UKUS, USUK - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23424187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loficlouds/pseuds/loficlouds
Summary: His name is America, and their arrangement is simple.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 58





	Our Arrangement

My name is America, and our arrangement is very simple.

He exploits my body. And by that, I mean he owns all the minerals, the gold, the grasses, and even the trees. He owns my labor, too, and sometimes I think he even owns my mind. When I am older, he will likely take other things from me too, but for now, we both get what we want. 

In exchange, I receive protection. I get a name. I get to live, relatively freely, in the peripheral of my mother nation and the crown’s eye. 

It works. I like it, actually. I like mother nation too - she’s a he, by the way.

His name is England. I call him that, and also Arthur, because we oftentimes have to be normal. 

That’s kind of funny to us. 

Every once in awhile, a girl’s father asks about marriage with either me or England, and afterwards we just laugh and laugh. Also every once in awhile, someone asks when I will take over the farm. Laughs all the livelong day. 

He is mostly kind to me. Sometimes I receive a scolding, though never unduly, and even a couple times a spanking. That was when I was very young though, and much more wild. England says his job from the start has been to tame me. I asked him if my job was to be tamed, then. He said no - my job was to submit. 

I’m not very good at that, and I fail to see the difference, but I do give it an earnest shot. 

* * *

England returned from overseas one day. 

Unfortunately for me, my horse broke its ankle, and England’s ran away months before. In that still-a-little-warm Virginia fall, I forced myself to start walking. Eventually a wagon with a couple farmers and their harvest picked me up - luckily they were going to town. 

I met England, considerably late, smelling like corn and dirty beans. 

He called my name out first. “Alfred!” 

I pushed through the crowd, aggressively at that, toward his voice. When I reached him, I almost felt like crying, but instead I hugged and kissed him. He did the same and he dragged me to a quieter spot.

It was a shaded street corner. The shop was closed. 

“I am so happy to see you!” He blurted out. 

He is only ever happy to see  _ me _ . I see him with France, servants, and all the captains and lieutenants, and he never acts like that with anyone else. Something about that satisfies me; it’s like the curves of my body, tightly tucking me in. 

“I am happier to see you,” I replied, breathless and true. He had become even prettier. Sometimes, when you get used to a face, its beauty can be lost to you. It returns so much more intense than before though. I love looking at his face after a long absence, just to feel a shiver of shyness. How could anything so attractive be interested in me? 

He was more slender than I remembered too. Suddenly he was my size, and that didn’t seem right when applied to him. The giant who protected me as a child was gone. My eyes lingered on his form. 

Again I felt shy, and in a new, strange way. 

It didn’t last long though. Soon familiarity settled through and we were hand-in-hand, heading toward his horse, and smiling. 

I got to ride with him.

* * *

At what moment did you realize you were a hopeless pervert? 

For me, it was then, riding the same horse, England’s arms around me, his hot breath on my neck. The day was already getting dark and cold. He deliberately pressed his body against mine.  _ Are you warm enough, love? _

So gentle. So loving. He always held genuine concern for me. 

At once I had the need - not the want - for his touch. 

I loved how our bodies fit together. I even loved the comfortable silence, the type earned only after years of cohabitation. Giddiness came to me like I was a boy of 5 and England just brought me a chest of new toys. 

England didn’t do anything inappropriate. He never does. But I sensed something different with him too, maybe in his gaze, maybe in the grip on my hips. I wondered, secretly, if he was trying to not become hard as his crotch rubs up against me. 

Thinking of that gave me the same problem. I tried to start a conversation, even though we are nearly to the farm. 

“This is the only horse we have now.” Somehow, I forgot to tell him that important piece of news. 

I could practically hear the frown. 

“And why is that?” 

“Mine broke its ankle this morning. Yours ran away.”

He let out a soft hm. The kind that would normally make me squirm a little.

“It’s why I was so late. I actually left on time, but then he hit an animal hole, and - “

“A burrow.” 

“A what?” 

“We have a word for ‘animal holes’.” 

If England had a catch phrase, it would be, “We have a word for _______.” 

“They are burrows,” England continued, “Homes for animals formed by burrowing. You could also, perhaps, call them dens...but they are really burrows.” England gave my hips a little squeeze. When he felt like he was a little too harsh, he offered some token of affection to make up for it. It always worked. “Start again, dear.” 

I huffed, but did as he said. “My horse must have stepped into a burrow. It fell and broke its ankle. Yours ran away months ago. I did not want you to think I left late.” 

“We will buy another when we are able.” 

“The body is still there.”

“We will deal with it as soon as we arrive.”

* * *

We ended up moving the dead horse deeper into the woods, and by the time we finished, it was dark-dark. England took a bath first and then instructed me to do the same, with all fresh, hot water. Afterwards we crawled into bed and immediately fell asleep, too exhausted to even chat and catch up. 

* * *

When I woke up, England is there - really there! - and tangled in my arms and legs. He still smelled fresh from the bath. I just laid there for awhile, breathing him in, watching him sleep. There it was again - that new feeling. It made my stomach twitch a little. 

England stirred not much later. He yawned and stretched.

“I had a dream about you last night,” England said, half-asleep. 

“What did I do?” 

England stretched again, opened his eyes, and smiled. 

“It was you, but in my home in England.” 

“Oh?”

“Mh-hmm. You were eating strange berries. I tried telling you not to because they might be poisonous. But I was shocked to find myself mute.” England’s hands went to his throat. Then he rolled over to his back. “You were so cute with their juice running down your chin though.” He let out a small laugh. I did too.

“Sounds like us.” 

“I am certain that has happened at least once when you were younger.” England looked over to me, still smiling. I loved it so much. “Now strange berries are small compared to the problems I will have with you.” 

I blinked, unsure of what he meant. Things had been good. I propped myself up on my elbow. “What do you mean?” 

England had a strange look on his face. Like he was caught doing something he shouldn’t. I wondered if I said something wrong. 

He quickly covered it up with another small smile. “Oh, nothing. Just that...well, you are almost a man now. You must be more interested in girls and your friends than me.” It was meant to sound funny and self-deprecating. 

“I love you,” I blurted out, definitely just interested in England, “I will never tire of you!” 

The passion seemed to take England off-guard, but then he smiled, and I could tell that really made him happy. 

“I love you too.”

So, so pretty! He had adorable little eye crinkles when he smiled hard like that. They would probably become wrinkles later. Cute, adorable wrinkles. 

He reached over and wrapped his arms around me. He planted a kiss on my forehead. I wondered if I had eye crinkles like him when I smiled, or if that was a detail he would never even notice. 

What exactly did he notice about me? 

We laid like that for awhile before getting up, and then we spent the rest of the day catching up. 

* * *

Things were normal for a couple days. There was still that strange, gnawing feeling inside me, and I still swore something felt different in our shared gazes, but I couldn’t definitively say what it was. Maybe he was just getting used to how old I was. 

While we were sweeping out the fireplace a couple days later, England asked me a strange question. 

“Do you have any girl friends?”

The answer was no. I felt caught between telling him the truth, and thus preserving my virginal quality, or lying, because part of me didn’t want my adoptive-brother to think I was a loser no one wanted. 

My reply was a shrug. I started to overthink the question. What if being a virgin scared him off? Maybe that wasn’t a good thing between 2 men. But if I lied, and then we did it, and I was horrible at it...wouldn’t he be suspicious? 

England huffed and copied me. “What is this - “ He shrugged, “ - supposed to mean?”

I could feel myself shrink back. He didn’t seem to like that answer.

“Uhm - no. I haven’t slept with any women.” 

Why did I say it like that? That just made the entire conversation sexual. He didn’t even ask if I slept with anyone. Fuck. 

“What about you?” I added quickly. 

“I am a virgin,” he said evenly. 

My gaze narrowed. “Sure.”

“Really, I am.” 

England could barely contain his grin. I rolled my eyes. He laughed and returned to sweeping wordlessly, leaving me more than a little embarrassed. 

* * *

The night after that, England and I were laying in bed. We had taken to cuddling a lot, bodies unabashedly pressed together, and he was spooning me. 

His hand started to move. Just up and down my side, not daring to venture anywhere else, but it was brushing over my upper thighs and almost against my privates. He had never done that before. I never had anyone touch me like that before. 

Somehow, it was erotic to me. I tried desperately not to get hard, but only half-succeeded. My whole body tensed. 

“America?” He whispered after awhile.

I pretended to be asleep. 

“America?” 

I stayed silent. 

England rubbed my side a couple more times, kissed my ear, and rolled over to face away from me. 

We both fell asleep.

* * *

England didn’t act so bold again until a week after that. 

We were smoking and sitting by the fire. Something about night-time seemed to embolden him. 

He was sitting on the sofa and I on a chair. Suddenly he asked me to come sit with him. I debated on not doing it, because I was half-way asleep, but I always wanted to fill that touch-ache. 

I slid down beside him. He leaned back and I did too, with my feet near his head and his by mine. 

He grabbed one and started to rub my calf back and forth. I let him. Something inside me told me I should pull away, or protest, but his touch was always so soft and loving. I didn’t want to be scared of what our bodies could do together. And besides, it was just an innocent massage. 

He started to use both hands to massage my calf and feet, dipping into the space behind my knee occasionally, just barely approaching thigh territory. I leaned back some more and let him do whatever he wanted to my feet and legs, silently accepting all of his advances. He didn’t half-ass it either. He really did loosen up some of the tight muscles and worked out the cricks in my toes. 

There was something thrilling to it. It was a genuine attempt to relax me, but I also felt like he was trying to do something with me. But he was taking his time; he was introducing me to his touch, accommodating me to him. I could feel myself smiling the entire time. 

He inched his way up forward, until eventually he was sitting on his knees and rubbing the top of my thigh. 

“Is this okay?” He breathed, so quiet I almost didn’t catch it. My smile had disappeared for a second. Only because I started to feel my cock stir. 

I nodded and spread my legs a little. I wanted to invite him there, let him touch me, let him do whatever he wanted with these parts. I was getting hard. 

England smiled and dared to caress my inner thigh. I had to look away. I was becoming unbearably horny, and was completely unused to having a witness.

England backed off with that. I didn’t invite him back. Suddenly I felt rationale enter my mind - he’s my brother. My protector. Mother Nation. 

We all have temptation sometimes. We can’t give in. 

It was like it hadn’t even happened. I was sure England was having the same thoughts. We got ready for bed, like normal, and slept slightly apart that night. 

* * *

A couple nights after that, we once again found ourselves in a similar position. England was massaging my calves again, slow and nice, to the point where I felt my eyelids start to grow heavy. I really could have slept on that sofa. 

Suddenly I felt him tickle my foot. I cried out and jerked it away from him. He smirked and then grabbed me, trying to tickle my armpits, stomach, anything that would bring my unwilling laughs to the surface, all the while teasing me. “You are such a sleepy boy,” his fingers danced over my sides, leaving me breathless, “such a lazy thing!” 

I managed to free myself from his grip just long enough to flip over onto my stomach, protecting my sensitive sides and crossing my arms to protect my armpits. I was still laughing, but wanted to catch my breath, and England gave it a rest for a moment. He sat on top of me, and it occurred to me as my laughter died down that we had ended up in an interesting position. I had a wicked thought; if I lifted my bottom, and ground it against England’s crotch, what would he do? 

My body twitched a little involuntarily. England must have thought I was going to launch my own attack, because he slid his arms underneath my body and grabbed my arms. I screamed, all in play, as he successfully uncrossed my arms and then pinned them to my back. He was laughing again, but I noticed he was not holding back his strength. 

“You are so weak compared to the British Empire,” he said, giving my arms a little push for emphasis. “So, so weak.” I laughed but started to settle down, feeling fatigue settling into my body. 

I tried to move, assuming our game was done, but England didn’t budge.

I tried again, and it was still the same. 

England sat on top of me. He leaned down, and kissed the back of my neck. I shivered. I felt so hopeless pinned beneath him, completely at his mercy, and I couldn’t help but hope he would take advantage of the situation. 

He nibbled at my ear. My breath hitched. I really was so weak compared to him. 

“I could do whatever I want to you right now…” England trailed off. He nipped at my ear again, then sucked the lobe, earning a muffled moan from me. I wanted him to. I really, really wanted to do whatever he wanted, but I was terrified at the same time. One hand left to wander over my thigh and my bottom, just light, ghostly touches, barely there at all. I didn’t try to leave.

Suddenly the weight of his body disappeared. That hot breath left, leaving a little wet spot on my ear. I moved my arms finally and found that they were quite sore.

England sat beside me, still catching his breath, before speaking with a strange tone. “Well - that was a fun game.” As if he hadn’t kissed and bit my ears, like he had not thought of fucking me against my will just moments ago. I didn’t dare rise or turn over yet, knowing I was embarrassingly hard, but suddenly not wanting to invite England there yet. I don’t know why it scared me. 

England seemed to take the hint. He rose and told me he was going to get ready for bed. I told him I would join him in a moment, and did, a few minutes later.

* * *

When I laid down with him that night, I also felt another emotion: disappointment. I felt like we might have had sex if I had let him, if I hadn’t become so scared at the last minute. I found myself wanting it desperately. Why be so frightened of the unknown? 

I patted England to see if he was awake. He was. I laid my head on the crook of his neck. 

“You can just ask the next time you want to touch my body,” I said. 

England didn’t reply. He did snake his arm underneath me though, and held me like that until we fell asleep. 

* * *

After lunch the next day, England led me to the bedroom. I knew what he wanted, or at least the gist of it, but he seemed a little reluctant to dive right in. I couldn’t lie to myself and say I was either. For the first time, I wondered if sex would destroy our friendship, not make it closer like I had assumed. Was it right for Mother Nation to do, and for me to allow it? Did he have those thoughts too? Is that why, when he led me to the bed, we just sat there for awhile as England held my hand? 

We talked like nothing was going to happen, and like nothing had happened already. But England would not stop talking about my looks.

“You have grown so handsome,” England said, caressing my cheek with one hand.

“Thank you,” I offered meekly, unsure if I should compliment him too. Did I really want to take that step? 

England's hand moved down, to my waist. “Such a lovely body too.” He squeezed my waist, and then placed a chaste kiss on my lips. It was the first one we had shared there. I felt my heart thump harder against my chest. Arthur pulled back, held my gaze a moment, and pecked me again before speaking. 

“If I were a worse man, I would ravish you.” 

I smiled at that. I still felt a little shy, but I wanted him. 

“What would you do to me?” 

England seemed to light up at that, and he pondered it for a moment. “I would start by undressing you. I would kiss you and touch and suck your nipples.” His hand moved to my inner thigh. “Then I would suck your cock. I’d want you to be ready to cum when I take you.” 

I felt my cock twitch. I started to like this game. 

“But would you make sure I cum?”

“Of course!” Arthur replied eagerly. He was starting to get excited. “I would do whatever you wanted me to do. I am not a brute. I want you to use me for pleasure.” England seemed a little breathless after that, and for once he became a little shy and looked away. “But as I said, that would only happen if I were a worse man. It would be wrong. You are just now becoming a man.” 

“What if I told you I wanted it though?” 

England looked at me. I knew the answer.

“How often would you fuck me?” I added. 

“Every day.” England paused. “Whenever you wanted,” he corrected. 

“What if I wanted to fuck you?” 

England smirked. “I would hold you down and fuck you.” 

“So ungentlemanly,” I chided. “Don’t you think that would hurt a virgin? I thought you just said you would do whatever I wanted.”

England pushed me down onto the bed then. He pinned my wrists down, and hovered over me, looking ravenous. It was then I noticed that he was hard, and I playfully tried to squirm away. He held me down firmly. I was ready.

“You have done nothing but tease me since I arrived. I dream of fucking you. I will take from you what I want. You owe your Mother Nation that.” 

With that he leaned down and started to kiss me, taste me, explore my body in a way that made me unbearably horny.

He did start with the nipples, pinching them beneath the shirt, until I felt like they might milk. He placed one kiss each over their clothed perkiness, before tearing off my shirt. His bare hands ran over my chest, before he set his mouth to one.

He sucked a moment and then looked up to me. He broke away for a moment to lean up and kiss my lips, and with my hands now free, I wrapped my hands around his neck and kissed him back. When he slipped back down, he went further than before, and began to undo my trousers.

My cock was already hard and sprung out. True to his word, Arthur began to suck and lick my cock, my balls, and especially the head, far exceeding anything my hand could recreate. I moaned, my body careened, and I already felt like cumming after just a couple minutes.

“England - “ 

Arthur popped my cock out of his mouth. “Mother Nation.” 

“Mother Nation...”

England rose and undid his own pants. It wasn’t the first time I had seen his fully erect cock, but it was the first time I saw it willingly presented and there for fucking. He wasted no time. He grabbed some oil and slicked himself, and then speared me. 

It hurt and felt amazing at the same time. He gave me only a moment to adjust before thrusting, mindful enough to be gentle, but not keen on denying himself his own pleasure. 

“Ah - “ I was getting used to my voice, how it sounded during sex, how did mother nation like it?

“So sweet.” England captured my lips in a passionate kiss as he humped me. I found myself shivering, overwhelmed by his cock inside my ass and his tongue inside my mouth. I felt joined to him, almost spiritually, and happy that I was no longer deprived of these certain worldly pleasures. 

When he broke away, I moaned louder. I locked eyes with him, daring him to look at me the entire time he fucked me, feeling that I needed the experience. 

He did not fuck me too hard, but I felt every movement and every little detail of what was happening inside me. The head, how it moved more rudely compared to the shaft, which slid easily in and out behind. I felt the heat in both, I felt it when England conquered another centimeter or two, and I even felt his balls start to brush against my bottom toward the end. 

He was sucking on my neck when he grunted and stilled his hips, cumming deep inside me. I felt the little spurt. I wondered where it went after, because it didn’t drip out of me. England kissed my cheek and then pulled out. He sunk to his knees once again and positioned me so he could suck me off, needing just a few moments before I also came.

England swallowed and then wiped away his spit onto his sleeve.

Suddenly I was no longer a virgin. Mother nation owned that now, too. He embraced me and then we laid in bed together, naked, and kissed. 

Yes, I thought - he owned that, and he would own more of me later. The thought comforted me. 


End file.
